Assumptions
by 309BakerStreet
Summary: Molly and Sherlock have very different opinions on their relationship. What happens when Sherlock asks a very important question? Prompt fill for Lilly McMissile.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Let's keep it that way. **

**For the lovely Lilly McMissile ... One of my very favorite reviewers. Based on your prompt, although it kind of went crazy in the opposite direction. Hopefully you like it! Lots of love.**

**Assumptions**

Molly looked around the restaurant, clearly impressed by the ambiance. It must be a white collar criminal they were after, she realized as she pulled nervously at her dress. She was sure she didn't fit in, and was probably drawing far too much attention to herself by her obvious discomfort. Sherlock's hand was pressed to the small of her back, leading her back to a table in the corner. "Relax, Molly. You look beautiful. Now stop fussing."

She could only nod as she tried to stop the blush that was spreading from where she had felt his breath on her skin as he had whispered in her ear. He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down, Sherlock taking the seat with the better vantage point of the room. Molly stared at the table, feeling even more out of place as she saw the settings. Why on earth could someone possibly need three different kinds of forks? And which one was she supposed to use first?

She looked at Sherlock for help, but he was too busy staring at a young couple that sat at a table near them, his focus solely on the young man. Sherlock stared at them distractedly for the majority of the meal, leaving it up to Molly to create some sort of conversation until dessert. He must be our target, then, Molly thought. She wondered who he was, and what sort of secret life he led to attract Sherlock's undivided attention.

He looked nervous, so Molly ruled out his being any kind of thief. Spy was also out, because of the nerves. Both professions required someone who was cool under pressure, and this man clearly wasn't. Hacker, then? Or maybe a future victim…

Molly was wrenched away from her thoughts as the man started to move. Sherlock muttered curses under his breath, and she had just enough time to vaguely wonder why before the man was on one knee, holding out a ring box to the curvy redhead sitting in front of him.

The redhead had tears in her eyes as she nodded her answer, and the entire restaurant exploded into applause as they sealed their new engagement with a kiss.

The entire restaurant, that is, except for one Sherlock Holmes.

As their food was brought out, Sherlock stared at the happy couple with distaste. Molly, sighed, and in a low tone said, "Sherlock? What's wrong? Who are they?"

He started at her question, and turned to her. "No one important. He is a last year medical student from a well off family, hence the fact that they can even afford a restaurant like this. The family paid for this entire night, although he himself bought the ring. She works at a preschool, as is evident by the circles of scratches on both calves, and is pregnant, although neither of them know it yet." He sipped the wine in front of him, still clearly distracted by the couple.

"Okay," Molly said, still not satisfied. "but if they aren't important, just normal people, then why is their engagement upsetting you still? Why does it even matter?"

Sherlock looked away from her as he ran an annoyed hand through his hair, and then turned his focus to her completely. "It doesn't matter. They don't matter, except they did ruin all my plans for tonight by taking away their novelty. But seeing as I can obviously not act out those plans anymore, here." His voice betrayed his frustration as he pulled a box out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of her.

Molly stared at it, her fingers almost shaking as she opened it to reveal a gorgeous gold band with a pearl sitting at its center. "Sherlock," she said in a low, cautious voice, "what is this?"

He looked startled. "Isn't it obvious? It's an engagement ring, Molly. That is the next logical step for a romantic relationship at this stage, according to my research. The ring ought to be perfect, I had you sized last month."

"Sherlock, just… just hold on." Molly said, trying to sort through all the questions that were bombarding her mind. How could he have had me sized without me knowing? And what research could possibly lead him into thinking he was supposed to propose? Finally she found the one that she thought ought to be asked first. "How long, according to you, have we been in a _romantic relationship_?"

"Three years, six months, and 26 days." Molly blinked rapidly. How could she possibly have been in a relationship for over 3 years and not have even known about it? He continued, saying, "It began the night before the fall, when I told you my feelings for you. I said that I trusted and needed you, and how important you are to me."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. Confusion was a rare emotion for him, yet it was exactly what he was experiencing now. Why did Molly insist on asking such stupid questions? And why now, on the one and only night when he needed her to be emphatically clear with him? He must have missed something.

"You can't be serious. Sherlock, we've never even been on a date."

"Yes we have. A date is where two people who have feelings for one another get together and perform an activity, such as eating dinner or watching a movie. We did both of those things multiple times while I was staying at your flat, and since then we have been to many different places and performed various activities together. Is that not a date?" He asked, genuinely concerned now.

Molly couldn't help but laugh. She answered patiently, like she was explaining some rule of society to a child. In a way, she was. "Well, yes, normally, but not the way that you seem to think. We spent time together before because you lived with me, and those are things that people who live together will occasionally do. And since you have been back, everything we have done has been revolved around a case, when you asked me to accompany because John couldn't or wouldn't. If you have any ulterior motive, other than spending time with and getting to know the other person, than it doesn't really count as a date."

Sherlock felt a frown creep across his face. He realized his mistake, but surely he couldn't have been wrong about the entire relationship… "But I have kissed you multiple times, Molly. That indicates an attachment. We even slept together once. How can that have been misinterpreted ?"

Molly's smile faded a bit as the memory was brought up. It had truly hurt her. "That night was a reaction to the adrenaline that was pounding in your veins. You had been shot at, Sherlock, and what happened next was only you trying to regain control of the situation around you. I.. I woke up and you were gone, and I didn't see you for three more months. It was a mistake, nothing more."

She continued, avoiding his glance. "And the kisses… I thought they were just reactions too, Sherlock. You would kiss me whenever you got really excited by a lead, or when you were flattering me until I helped you do some extremely illegal experiment in the lab. Or for a case where we were pretending to be in love. I didn't think that anything was real."

His eyes grew sad as she spoke. He had lied to her far too often in the past, so when he had started to tell the truth she had never believed any of it. "We were never pretending. At least, I was never pretending to be in love with you for a case, Molly Hooper. Sometimes the best cover is the truth. I kissed you because I wanted to, not just to get what I needed."

She looked dumbfounded at him as he stood to leave. "I am sorry for the misinterpretation, Molly. I assumed that you reciprocated my affection, but this no longer seems to be the case. There's always something…"And with that he turned on his heel, leaving a shocked Molly at the table alone.

She sat there, trying to figure out what had just happened. Did he actually think that they were in a relationship? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, in a strange sort of way. She thought back to their more recent interactions. The compliments had seemed more sincere lately, and he was touching her far more frequently than before, taking her hand, brushing against her as they walked, resting his hand on her shoulder. She hadn't really noticed the increased sincerity in his words and movements, but looking back it now seemed obvious.

And these last three years had not always been easy. Killing off Sherlock and then bringing him back to life had taken quite a toll on both of them, yet they had stuck by each other throughout the entire ordeal. If they had actually been in a relationship, wouldn't that have proven it strong enough to handle anything?

Sherlock knew what marriage meant. He understood the commitment and the responsibility it carried. And he had chosen her to be his partner in it. Somehow, she had gotten the one person who thought caring to be a weakness, the great Sherlock Holmes, the one person she loved more than anyone in the world, to expose himself willingly to it and propose. And, she realized with a shock, she had rejected him.

Sherlock came back to Baker Street that night, frustrated and confused. How could it be possible that Molly hadn't known about their relationship? He couldn't be wrong about her feelings for him- she had proven them time and time again. She had never dated anyone else during the three years he had been 'dead'… had she? He frowned, realizing that he had often been gone for months at a time, leaving plenty of time for Molly to be in short term relationships if she really hadn't known. He delved into his mind palace to sort out the thoughts, ignoring John's greeting as he entered the flat and flopped down onto the couch.

He ran down the halls of his mind palace, searching frantically for the memory of the night before the fall. He replayed the scene over and over again, realizing that although every word implied affection and love, not a single thing he had said actually stated those feelings directly. He replayed every kiss, wincing as he saw that they were perceived not as the appreciation and dedication that they were meant to convey, but overexcitement or manipulation.

He cursed himself as he saw their night together again, this time from Molly's perspective. She had been right about the adrenaline, but wrong about what it had created in him. He had realized that night how much she meant to him, and had set out to prove it to her. But that morning, he had received a call from Mycroft, which had given him a time sensitive lead, and he'd had to leave without saying goodbye. He saw himself write the note that he had left to Molly, this time realizing that the words which had been meant as reassuring seemed cold and dismissive.

Sherlock now understood why Molly hadn't believed him tonight, and he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for the pain he had inadvertently caused her. Until tonight, he had always just assumed that she knew how much he cared for her. But he knew now that she didn't, because he had never told her.

He twisted the ring box between his hands, having forgotten that he had taken it from the table when he had left in such a hurry. He took out the ring and studied it. He had spent many hours trying to decide which stone to put in the ring. He had studied each of the gemstones and their meanings before deciding upon a pearl.

Purity, innocence, perfection, balance, protection, strength- each aspect of the pearl's symbolic nature reflected something that Molly brought into his life. She had taken over his mind and heart, and he wondered if he would ever be able to live without her.

He was drawn away from his thoughts by four short knocks on the door. He looked over at the entrance as John answered it, and was stunned by what he saw. Molly stood framed in the doorway, her eyes looking straight past John and locking onto his. After a few seconds, John excused himself muttering something about Mrs. Hudson as he snuck past her and out the door, closing it behind him.

She crossed the room quickly to where he was and sat down next to him. For a minute, the only sound in the room was their breathing. Finally he spoke. "Molly. I understand now. I didn't realize how much I have hurt you. It was never my intent, and for that I apologize." He spoke slowly, putting every ounce of his scattered emotions into his voice.

He stared into her gaze, trying to gauge a reaction. She was shocked by his apology, that much was apparent, but there was also something else that he couldn't quite name playing in her eyes. When she responded, there was a hint of a smile in her voice. "You took away the ring."

She laughed as he sputtered for an answer. It felt good to surprise the consultant detective for once. "the ring," she said again, taking it out of his hands and looking at it, "How am I supposed to answer without the ring?"

"I… with the way that the conversation was going, a negative response seemed inevitable. I assumed…"

She laughed, cutting him off. Then, she placed the ring in his hands and guided them as they pushed it onto her left ring finger. "I've had about enough of your assumptions, Sherlock."

She pulled his head down to meet hers, and kissed him soundly, removing all the tension in the room. After a few minutes, the finally surfaced again, gasping for air. A look of concern overtook Sherlock's face when he was able to speak again. "Now, just to make sure that there is no miscommunication…"

A smile tugged across Molly's lips as she answered. "Yes. Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, I love you, yes I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and Yes, I will marry you. Is that clear enough?

"Emphatically", was all he said before he captured her lips again. Molly could not stop smiling.

**Yah, that was kind of only very loosely based on your prompt. Sorry... I get easily distracted. But it is still dedicated to you, and I hope it satisfied some of what you wanted. All my love!**


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